Immortalized
Title: Immortalized
Setting: December 2003, AtS Season 5. 1000 words.
Rating: G
Prompt: Snow
Reason number two on Dawn’s List Of Things To Be Grateful For On Christmas was that it would be a white Christmas. Buffy nodded and smiled complacently and didn’t explain that this only made her think of the last time she’d seen snow in December, which made her think of Angel, which made her think of ensouled vampires, which made her think of him and how he wasn’t there (#1 on DLOTTBGFOC was that they were all together, and that wasn’t true now either, was it?)…and so really the prospect of a white Christmas didn’t cheer her up at all.
Still, London did look beautiful blanketed in snow, provided one kept one’s eyes above the dirty slush on the roads. Hyde Park, with its mounds of glittering snow and tableau of playing, happy families, took Buffy’s breath away.
Then Xander’s snowball caught her on the back of the head and took her breath away in a more literal manner.
Later, after they’d thrown more snowballs than they could count, when their faces were as beet-red from exertion as they were from the cold and their hands were numb inside their gloves, they flopped onto their backs.
“I can’t remember the last time I made a snow angel,” said Willow. Smiling blissfully, she moved her arms up and down, her legs out and in. Buffy started to do the same.
Snow angel…
Buffy stilled.
It was silly (snow angels had nothing to do with Angel; heck, angels had nothing to do with Angel), but she couldn’t keep from imagining what he would say.
“Immortalizing him in the snow, are you, pet?”
No, that wasn’t quite right.
“Immortalizing the Poofter in the snow, are you, pet?”
That was more like it.
Buffy smiled and closed her eyes.
“Jealous?”
A dismissive snort. “Of a little shape in the snow that will get trampled on by snotty-nosed tots and pissed on by dogs? Hardly.”
In her mind’s eye, he was caught between trying to look patronizing and trying not to scowl. Always playing a part, he was. And at the end, not doing it very well. Just the way she liked.
“Could have fooled me. Besides, I would hardly call a snow figure immortalizing something.”
“They’re your words, pet. Not mine.”
Buffy’s smile faded.
“Don’t be like that. Don’t be my imagination. Just be Spike.”
His head tilted to the left, his eyes gentle.
“I am Spike. Even in your imagination. You won’t forget me, Buffy.”
There he was, her discerning vampire. Always knew what was really on her mind. Usually knew what to say to make it better.
“If you say something cheesy like you’ll always be a part of me…”
“Course not. When do I ever say anything that stupid? Don’t answer that.”
“You are, though.” Even in her mind, the words were a shy whisper. “A part of me.”
A moment passed.
His voice came thickly. “Well that’s good, yeah, pet? No need to grieve, then. I’m still alive somewhere.”
No need to grieve. Buffy swallowed hard, even though it hurt to do so while lying flat on her back.
“Undead.” She made the correction lightly. Not to undercut the seriousness of the moment, but so that she wouldn’t cry.
A pause, then he sounded thoughtful. “No, I think it’s fair to say I was alive.”
“But-”
“Maybe not medically speaking, but the concept of a heartbeat dictating life and death is just a human paradigm, isn’t it? Something can't die if it was never alive in the first place. Did I die, Buffy?”
Buffy turned her cheek to the snow so that if she did cry, her friends wouldn’t see. She took several deep breaths.
“Yes. You died.”
“So I was alive.” He sounded satisfied instead of upset. Stupid vampire. As if semantics were what mattered.
“I never realized you were a philosopher.”
“I’m dead, pet. Not much else to do.”
He didn’t sound bitter or angry.
He wasn’t the one who blamed her.
“I never meant for you to die. When I gave you the amulet. I didn’t know it would happen like that.”
“I know, Buffy.”
He did. They’d had this particular conversation often enough in the past six months. And yet she was never satisfied with its resolution.
“Spike?”
“Yes, sweetheart?”
Her eyes burned. Had he ever called her that? She couldn’t remember. She liked it, though. Oh, how she liked it.
“I love you.”
She held her breath for the longest pause yet.
“I love you, too.”
Her breath escaped in a puff of mist. Relief washed over her, as palpable and soothing as stepping into a scalding shower or taking a long draught of hot chocolate. Regret accompanied it, though, like the consequent burning of skin or tongue.
“Then why? ‘No you don’t. But thanks for…’” She couldn’t finish.
After a minute, Buffy opened her eyes to stare at the white-gray sky. Snowflakes were drifting down again, and she opened her mouth automatically to taste them. A few feet away came the quiet murmur of her friends’ voices. It was horribly loud compared to the silence in her head.
“Buffy, are you okay?”
Buffy turned her head to see Dawn gazing at her curiously, a little worried.
“I’m fine.”
“We should probably go,” said Xander. “I think the storm’s about to start again.”
Instead of standing as her friends did, Buffy held her arms in place and methodically moved her legs out and in again. Then she sat up and climbed carefully out of the impression.
Buffy eyed it critically for a moment. The top half looked like a normal human’s. The spread of the legs could pass for a duster.
“Oh, Buffy…”
There he was. His awe made her smile. This was a kind of speechlessness she didn’t mind. As for the other…
Maybe next time she’d get an answer.
Spirits buoyed, she turned to follow the Scoobies, leaving her snow-Spike behind.
“Do you ever wonder if I’m alive, Buffy? I could have come back. Maybe…”
Her smile disappeared. Buffy slammed a wall down in her head, blocking out the treacherous false hope.
That was definitely just her imagination.
Setting: December 2003, AtS Season 5. 1000 words.
Rating: G
Prompt: Snow
Reason number two on Dawn’s List Of Things To Be Grateful For On Christmas was that it would be a white Christmas. Buffy nodded and smiled complacently and didn’t explain that this only made her think of the last time she’d seen snow in December, which made her think of Angel, which made her think of ensouled vampires, which made her think of him and how he wasn’t there (#1 on DLOTTBGFOC was that they were all together, and that wasn’t true now either, was it?)…and so really the prospect of a white Christmas didn’t cheer her up at all.
Still, London did look beautiful blanketed in snow, provided one kept one’s eyes above the dirty slush on the roads. Hyde Park, with its mounds of glittering snow and tableau of playing, happy families, took Buffy’s breath away.
Then Xander’s snowball caught her on the back of the head and took her breath away in a more literal manner.
Later, after they’d thrown more snowballs than they could count, when their faces were as beet-red from exertion as they were from the cold and their hands were numb inside their gloves, they flopped onto their backs.
“I can’t remember the last time I made a snow angel,” said Willow. Smiling blissfully, she moved her arms up and down, her legs out and in. Buffy started to do the same.
Snow angel…
Buffy stilled.
It was silly (snow angels had nothing to do with Angel; heck, angels had nothing to do with Angel), but she couldn’t keep from imagining what he would say.
“Immortalizing him in the snow, are you, pet?”
No, that wasn’t quite right.
“Immortalizing the Poofter in the snow, are you, pet?”
That was more like it.
Buffy smiled and closed her eyes.
“Jealous?”
A dismissive snort. “Of a little shape in the snow that will get trampled on by snotty-nosed tots and pissed on by dogs? Hardly.”
In her mind’s eye, he was caught between trying to look patronizing and trying not to scowl. Always playing a part, he was. And at the end, not doing it very well. Just the way she liked.
“Could have fooled me. Besides, I would hardly call a snow figure immortalizing something.”
“They’re your words, pet. Not mine.”
Buffy’s smile faded.
“Don’t be like that. Don’t be my imagination. Just be Spike.”
His head tilted to the left, his eyes gentle.
“I am Spike. Even in your imagination. You won’t forget me, Buffy.”
There he was, her discerning vampire. Always knew what was really on her mind. Usually knew what to say to make it better.
“If you say something cheesy like you’ll always be a part of me…”
“Course not. When do I ever say anything that stupid? Don’t answer that.”
“You are, though.” Even in her mind, the words were a shy whisper. “A part of me.”
A moment passed.
His voice came thickly. “Well that’s good, yeah, pet? No need to grieve, then. I’m still alive somewhere.”
No need to grieve. Buffy swallowed hard, even though it hurt to do so while lying flat on her back.
“Undead.” She made the correction lightly. Not to undercut the seriousness of the moment, but so that she wouldn’t cry.
A pause, then he sounded thoughtful. “No, I think it’s fair to say I was alive.”
“But-”
“Maybe not medically speaking, but the concept of a heartbeat dictating life and death is just a human paradigm, isn’t it? Something can't die if it was never alive in the first place. Did I die, Buffy?”
Buffy turned her cheek to the snow so that if she did cry, her friends wouldn’t see. She took several deep breaths.
“Yes. You died.”
“So I was alive.” He sounded satisfied instead of upset. Stupid vampire. As if semantics were what mattered.
“I never realized you were a philosopher.”
“I’m dead, pet. Not much else to do.”
He didn’t sound bitter or angry.
He wasn’t the one who blamed her.
“I never meant for you to die. When I gave you the amulet. I didn’t know it would happen like that.”
“I know, Buffy.”
He did. They’d had this particular conversation often enough in the past six months. And yet she was never satisfied with its resolution.
“Spike?”
“Yes, sweetheart?”
Her eyes burned. Had he ever called her that? She couldn’t remember. She liked it, though. Oh, how she liked it.
“I love you.”
She held her breath for the longest pause yet.
“I love you, too.”
Her breath escaped in a puff of mist. Relief washed over her, as palpable and soothing as stepping into a scalding shower or taking a long draught of hot chocolate. Regret accompanied it, though, like the consequent burning of skin or tongue.
“Then why? ‘No you don’t. But thanks for…’” She couldn’t finish.
After a minute, Buffy opened her eyes to stare at the white-gray sky. Snowflakes were drifting down again, and she opened her mouth automatically to taste them. A few feet away came the quiet murmur of her friends’ voices. It was horribly loud compared to the silence in her head.
“Buffy, are you okay?”
Buffy turned her head to see Dawn gazing at her curiously, a little worried.
“I’m fine.”
“We should probably go,” said Xander. “I think the storm’s about to start again.”
Instead of standing as her friends did, Buffy held her arms in place and methodically moved her legs out and in again. Then she sat up and climbed carefully out of the impression.
Buffy eyed it critically for a moment. The top half looked like a normal human’s. The spread of the legs could pass for a duster.
“Oh, Buffy…”
There he was. His awe made her smile. This was a kind of speechlessness she didn’t mind. As for the other…
Maybe next time she’d get an answer.
Spirits buoyed, she turned to follow the Scoobies, leaving her snow-Spike behind.
“Do you ever wonder if I’m alive, Buffy? I could have come back. Maybe…”
Her smile disappeared. Buffy slammed a wall down in her head, blocking out the treacherous false hope.
That was definitely just her imagination.